Analia's Misconceptions

When questioning the murdered man's wife, the detectives seemed sympathetic in terms of their expressions. They appeared concerned and their hardened expressions softened. The woman was shown sobbing and had bloodshot eyes. Tears were rolling down her face and her beauty was a stark contrast with the ugliness of the previously-depicted crime scene and the faded trench coats of the detectives. She

Large round tears welled up in the girl's eyes, and slid down her freckled nose. Shocked, I gazed at her, searching her tear-filled eyes for a sign of compassion or remorse. Had I

Prologue: As the war between the great Roman republic of magna columbia and the mighty Northern federation raged on an new and more powerful enemy was stirring in the shadows. Twas an alliance of not one, not two, but 3. Men across the lands called these three towns the three sins or the three devils. A Fort B scout intercepted a letter and told his president about it. At the same time scouts from the NF had found out when crossing the valley by acaria. Then when it was taken to head councilman Andrew Greyfox he thought of the last time acaria stirred. The year 1308 and in may. The fall of the FSS. He could still hear the cannons go off and the men running in fear of the acarian and magna soldiers taking one town after the other until they

No sound to be heard, no blood stain to be seen and no mess around us, I felt pride in my heart. All because I was not nervous and the fugitive effects of the night light in her eyes, while she was struggling for her life, gave me only more confidence. Now all that was left to do was to get rid of her evil corpse because I could not put up with her anymore, her eyes that had rolled up into her head gave me a feeling of sickness.

Donovan gazed out over the dusky ground. His green eyes darted around looking for any signs of movement. A dry hot breeze hit his rugged cheeks. It was a sensation he was used to. The desert winds were kisses he had loathed and yet, was as familiar as a lover’s embrace. Every night rolled on the same. The odd trader with their beast of burden mewling in the dark. The rank smell of cow excrement tainted the seemingly desolate air. Scrub brush swayed lazily.

And winning. The judge sits upon his podium, checking over the evidence presented one last time. I look up to meet the gaze of him, our eyes lock. His face, although broken and streaked with tears still looks upon me with that same gaze that makes me feel so light and so right. I tear my gaze away from him and look to my parents and see their hungry eyes. Like predators staring down their prey.

Sobs racked his body as he sat on the cold ground. He cared, he cared so much. He cared so deeply that he knew that if Aomine were to walk away again then he wouldn't be able to live. It felt like a chunk of his heart was ripped out. It left the same as when Aomine walked away but almost worse because he knew this time it was his fault and that the bridge might be too burnt to ever use again. He had believed it was for the better but the feeling that he felt now said that he was a

I was a native speaker, but I rarely participated, afraid that my Spanish was informal at best and rudimentary at worst. She had spent every Christmas in Ibiza, one summer in Buenos Aires, and was afraid of nothing. I remember watching her drone on about Borges or Garcia Lorca in her slow valley drawl, eyes turned upward, twirling her hair about her fingers as she explained things I didn’t quite understand like the duality of being or the death of the author. For one year we read the same books. We became inundated with the same words and thoughts, our minds consumed by images of labyrinths and endless libraries, fragrant seaside towns and the matriarchs who ruled with iron firsts and bitter hearts. When we spoke to each other for the first time in May—three weeks before school let out for summer break—it was like we already knew each other. In the early afternoons, we would slip away from school and lunch at sidewalk cafes. She always paid. We spent days holed up in her father’s library—all dark wood panels and leather seats—working on term papers and studying for our finals into the early morning hours. By the first of June, I was packed into her family’s black suburban heading up to her summer home in Big

I ran to embrace her. I started panicking. She told me that I would be okay. I would see her soon in the justice building to say our farewells. I didn’t want to leave her but I made my way to the stage trembling as I walked up the steps.

Maly hurried into a cubicle in the toilet and locked herself in it. Tears streamed down her face as she reflected on what had happen a moment ago. She gasped for air between sobs. Tears from her wide moistened eyes streamed down her pale brown cheeks. The tears tasted brackish to her lips with a significant tint of bitterness in

A gust of damp, hot air greeted my skin when I entered the room. The fan, in its futile effort to cool the sweltering room, accomplished no purpose other than rustling the shrew pages of “Moroccan National News” and causing the bed linen to shiver. I flung open to the first chapter of my summer reading novel, A Thousand Acres. As I half-heartedly scanned the pages, my gaze drifted over to the servant girl working in the room. Beads of perspiration dipped unnoticed down her temples and the scarf over her head clung wearily to her neck, only adding to the feeling of being suffocated by the humid heat. The warmth did not seem to affect me as much as it did her, but then, I lounged beneath a ceiling fan. She crouched low on the floor with a hand-made broom of pine needles bound together by a copper cord. Her expression appeared stoic and her movement robotic. For an instance her eyes rose to meet mine, and I

She started at her reflection in the mirror, just sitting still in silence. The area around her dark eyes were red and puffy, from the crying of course. At first, she might only spare a tear here or there. But as the date got closer it became harder for her to control her emotions. She wanted to be supportive, but

My lips trembled. I thought I was primed from the break of our friendship, but somewhere deep inside my heart, it ached. I didn't exactly know why; but it ached.

The tears began falling from her eyes, mixing with the blood splattered on her face. She tried to walk again, not getting very far. She looked up to the street, she wanted to get out of here, to leave.

Rose didn’t know what to do, so she hung up. Different emotions hit her all at once unable to control the tear, she let them come out. They came out like a waterfall she laid down on her bed and covered her face with her blanket. The soft, silk-like material soaked up her salty, uncontrollable tears. She wasn’t close to her mother but they had been, before their argument. Mason knocked on her door but rose didn’t bother to open it. Rose stayed in bed and told him to go away. He knocked harder and harder but she couldn't hear them no longer because her eyes started to close and her ears gave in.